


Blooming in China

by Zhou



Series: KissingZhou [2]
Category: Henry Kissinger - Fandom, Nixon in China, Zhou Enlai - Fandom
Genre: 20th Century, Alternate Universe - Politics, Authority Figures, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhou/pseuds/Zhou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Henry Kissinger returns to China for Richard Nixon's official state visit to China. To Kissinger, all this is is a time to be reunited with Zhou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blooming in China

“Tell me about this Chou man, what do we know about em’,” Dick rambled off , “Can we trust em’, he is a commie, isn’t e’?” That was Dick, or Mr. President as I called him. Always paranoid about our next move. I had managed to draft an entire communique with Zhou, and even gotten Dick on this plane towards Beijing, but Dick was still worried we were headed for disaster.

“Yes, Mr. President, Premier Zhou is a fine a man,” I began trying to assure him for perhaps the fourth time this flight, “You’ve read over the communique, you sh—“

“To hell with what the communique says!” blasted Dick in a classic fit of anger, “Those cocksuckers will lie through their teeth if it means we’ll save em’ from the Russians!” Dick hit the table violently with a loud thump.

“Mr. President,” I whispered realizing that I was losing control, “Have you forgotten who we are carrying onboard?” I was of course referring to the Chinese minders we had picked up on our stop in Shanghai, a requirement by the Chairman.

Dick’s eyebrows lifted as he set back and swallowed hard, giving a slow nod. The plane was already beginning to descend, the barren countryside visible from the window would soon be replaced with the tarmac of Capital Airport and the streets of Beijing, but most importantly, the face of Zhou. My Zhou.

* * *

The plane’s descent felt like hours, every moment just another more closer to seeing Zhou. I hadn’t spoken to him privately since our the frigid evening of our walk through the Imperial Gardens. I had written a series of letters to him, and though each had been replied to, I always read and wrote them knowing that we could not discuss what had gone on between us. We both knew that our mail was being read, and both knew we could say nothing for he would lose his position in the Politburo, and I in The White House.

I had taken a seat just outside Dick’s office. Though a window sat beside the seat, I turned so as not to look out it, fearing that I perhaps would become impulsive upon seeing my dear friend’s face. Oh how I wished to turn, to turn and look down, to look down at the Earth and see him, but I stayed strong, looking across to Pat who hadn’t taken her eyes off the window since we left Guam adding remarks all the way such as, “Look at that water, oh Henry, have you ever seen so much water?” Her remarks had bored me and so I had gone to sit with the president, but then his paranoia was just another nerving obsession.

The plane made a bumpy landing, but no one but Pat was surprised. The pilot had informed us the tarmac at Capital Airport was awful, saying he would try his best to ensure the safety of us all, but that the runway was small and cracked.

The plane came to a slow halt and as it did Pat opened her mouth, “Why there’s a Chinaman out there!” Pat would be the only one of course to comment on the presence of Chinese people in China. “They all look so important,” she continued to blabber on, her poor mind distracting me.

“Yes Mrs. Nixon,” I said with a smile as I turned to the window forgetting the pact I had made with myself, and suddenly there he was. Among the officials I never met and military bands I would only hear play once, there stood the man I desired to see. He surely could not see me, but I stared at his eyes and they looked as though they were staring back at mine. “That would be The Great Premier Zhou Enlai.”

* * *

My staring trance was interrupted as Dick stepped out of his office, “Pat, it’s time to show these Chinese who makes history.”

Pat stood with a smile and a dainty remark on how nice Dick looked, and I too stood, swallowing hard as I tried to stop myself from obsessing over the face I had just seen.

“Henry, you’ll come down after Pat and I have reached the bottom, understand? We need to show these Commies who’s in charge, they’ve already met you; now they’ve already met the ground force, now it’s time to bring in the infantry.”

Dick’s military metaphors did of course make sense, but they placed a sour taste in my mouth knowing very well what it was we were doing in Cambodia, “Yes Mr. President,” I managed without a hint of malice.

The door of the aircraft swung open, a pair of steps rolled up to it, and out stepped Dick and Pat, the silence still as chilling as when we had first heard it in Shanghai. We had become accustomed to the uproarious cheers when we landed anywhere else, but in China, no one cheered, no one dared to speak.

I counted the number of steps I heard on the metal steps, growing fainter and fainter 30…31…32…33…34, they stopped. I stepped up to the doorway of the aircraft and looked out, my eyes scanning the crowds until I saw him shaking hands with Dick. I swallowed hard and began down the stairs, forcing myself to keep a slow pace. He was shaking hands with Pat now and she was telling him how wonderful the Chinese people smelled. I reached the foot of the steps just as he finished shaking hands with Pat.

“Dr. Kissinger,” the words were warm and I extended my hand, “It’s so wonderful to see you here again.”

I nodded as he took my hand, “Likewise Mr. Premier, it seems like it has been so long since our discussions in Zhongnanhai.” His touch was warm, his words inviting, but no one else knew the true reason why; they did not understand the true nature of our words.

“Many years,” Zhou added with a smile as he let go of my hand, “I look forward to continuing the conversations we started last time we met.” Zhou walked back to his position beside the president and I kept my eyes focussed forward, I would not be caught looking over at him as The Star Spangled Banner and The East is Red played. Then came the hand shakes, the fake laughs, the small talk with men I knew I would never see again, all the while making coveted glances towards Zhou who spent not a moment away from Dick. I needed to talk to him. He needed to fulfill his responsibilities. And before we could speak, we were shoved in limousines and driven to The Angling Terrace where Dick demanded he speak to Zhou alone, my hunger to merely say a word to Zhou growing as I knew he was so much closer than he had been in the past months of our separation.

* * *

“A meeting with the Chairman?” I asked Dick in surprise as I was shoved into another Limousine.

“Yes, The Premier has already gone, said he needed to be beside the Chairman as we walked in or some bullshit,” Dick grumbled his ignorance and irritation of customs deemed foreign to him showing.

I looked out the window watching the streets of Beijing, much more crowded this afternoon compared to Zhou and I’s evening. Children played to either side of the car as shop vendors haggled with customers, but a woman stuck out to me. She rode a bicycle towards the limousine and her face reminded me of Ann’s, my ex-wife. I felt a sudden feeling of regret, feeling sorry for what I had forced Ann through. We’d raised children together of course, well she had, I hadn’t been home all that frequently. I was terrible to her, that’s why when she told me she wanted a divorce, I was happy to agree to one.

I had become so deeply engrossed in my thoughts, I failed to notice as the car stopped and someone opened the door. “Henry, we have to go NOW,” Dick’s voice suddenly pulling me out of my trance. I climbed out and were ushered towards the Chairman’s home and to his study. It was full of books I noticed, but my observations were interrupted when I saw Zhou, staring at me with a slight smile before giving a slow welcoming nod. Our meeting with the Chairman would begin shorty.

* * *

A meeting with The Chairman of The Chinese Communist Party as it turned out was terribly boring. I found myself again and again, nearly nodding off, only sitting up to attention when either The Chairman or Zhou would defer a question to me. Nixon’s forehead had become a lake of sweat and its shininess amused me, allowing me to stay awake when I needed to.

As our meeting came to a close, Dick and I thanked the Chairman and began out the door of the study, Zhou in step.

Once we were out, Dick spoke, “So, Chou, what is there to do now?” he asked with his wide smile and slight laugh.

“Why, Mr. President you may go ahead and rest, perhaps Dr. Kissinger and I can continue our work on the communique.” As the words left Zhou’s mouth he turned slightly to me with a smile and slight nod, “That is if you are rested, Doctor.”

“Yes,” I exclaimed in excitement without even waiting for Dick’s reply. In realizing what I had done, I turned to Dick with an apologetic smile, “Yes wouldn’t that be a good idea?” I asked trying to recover. Dick hated it when he felt his authority had been brought under question.

Dick stared for several moments, his eyes staring into me hard, a silence filling the hallway we stood in. “I suppose I am rather tired,” he said slowly, “It would be good for me to rest before this evening’s banquet. I shall see you two then, then.” Dick finished with a nod and then turned making his way down the hall, not interested in our reply.

When Dick had gone out of sight, Zhou turned to me, placing his hand on my side and looking into my eyes, “I have missed you Henry,” he whispered and leaned in, kissing me and sending a shiver down my back.

* * *

Once we had finished our grand rapprochement, the two of us got into a limousine and headed for The Great Hall of People, some work did indeed still need to be done on the communique.

Through the car ride Zhou told me of his wife, his children, his life, explaining every detail of his life as though he would not be able to tell it again. The stories were wonderful to hear, but their nature worried me. Was he trying to communicate his inability to continue our special relationship? If so, then why did he kiss me?

It all made sense when he dropped his voice to a whisper and brought his lips close to my ear, “I will soon die, I know it,” his tone was urgent, “I need treatment you see, cancer, my requests for treatment have been denied here and so I shall surely die of it.”  
I was taken back but what he said. I could only think of the word, _cancer_. It was never a word anyone wanted to hear, but no matter who you talked to, someone could always tell you about someone they had known that had died due to it. “You could leave,” I said my face fearful for what was to come, “You could come and get treatment, come home with us, yeah, we have hospitals that are very good at treating that sort of thing,” but my words were interrupted by a simple shake of Zhou’s head. He knew he could not leave.

“The people would parish if I left,” Zhou stated simply after taking several moments to speak, “If they are to parish as The Chairman seems to be pushing them to, I shall perish beside them.”

I knew then there was no use trying to convince him of anything else, but I so eagerly wanted to change his mind. I stared at him, my eyes growing wet as I gave a slow empathetic nod. The Chinese People didn’t know how truly lucky they were.

* * *

The Great Hall of People was indeed one of the Greatest halls I had stepped into. Though the structure was not nearly as impressive as The Hall of Supreme Harmony I had walked through with Zhou on my last visit, it was indeed impressive especially knowing that it had been constructed in the past 25 years.

We stepped into a room and as an interpreter attempted to follow us in, Zhou swatted them away producing a frown on the woman’s face. Zhou locked the door and led me to a couch, sitting down on it as I did.

We talked foreign policy for perhaps 40 minutes before Zhou pulled me close to him and reclined on the couch. He pushed my head to his chest and I gave slightly confused laugh.

Zhou turned his head upwards to look at the ceiling as he slowly rubbed my back, murmuring something in Mandarin, and then he began to sing, first in Mandarin, then in English,

 

> “an age of blossom
> 
> affectionate as the moon
> 
> bright as the snow
> 
> splendid is living
> 
> caring is spring water
> 
> in union are families
> 
> the lonely islands in the graveyard,
> 
> shrouded in torn clouds and grief-stricken mists
> 
> O my dearly beloved country,
> 
> when would I be in your embrace
> 
> to see clouds dissipate
> 
> and see you shine again
> 
> an age of blossom
> 
> affectionate as the moon”

His voice was rough as he sang softly, and at the song’s conclusion, he shut his eyes and a tear ran down his cheek. I feared saying anything, and so I laid in silence looking down at him.

After several minutes Zhou broke his silence as he slowly opened his eyes and said softly, “Henry, this is our age of bloom, we should be spending it doing well, but instead we cannot because of the societies we live in.” He stared up at me bringing a hand to my face and cupping it before leaning in and giving me a light kiss. He brought a hand to his own face wiping his tear away and then lifted me off of him and stood up offering a hand down to help me up, “We mustn’t miss the banquet,” he said with a wink and pulled me up before walking towards the door and then on to the main hall again.


End file.
